Growing Healthy Roots

So my wife has left me.

Oooo, don't that get your attention. She left for a week in Anaheim for business. And she'll get to spend time with her sister and her family who lives down there. And some of her other sisters and her mom are going down to visit as well. So that will be fun. For them.

Me? I get a week of self-perpetuation. It's a struggle living with me. I don't know how Suzy does it. But she does it a whole lot better than I do.

Nonetheless. Life is good. Always remember that.

Had a nice weekend, as my parents came to visit, and they brought the latest addition to the family-- Blue, a Steffordshire Terrier that my dad adopted from the pound. She's a real sweetie. So well behaved, just wants to be loved... if you're sitting on the couch, she'll trot up and try to ease as close to you as possible, so that you will pet her. And if you pet her a few times and then stop, she raises a paw and places it on your lap, and gets this pleading look on her face like "C'mon, PLEASE! More petting!" She's very mellow, rarely barks, and is very loving. Nice dog.

Anyway, Mom and Dad came down Friday night and stayed with us-- we had dinner and then visited into the night. Saturday, after we went to breakfast, Mom and Suzy went to a Stampin' Up! event and Dad and Blue and I hung out at home. Had a really great discussion with Dad about permaculture and sustainability, inspired by the book we're reading together-- Gaia's Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture by Toby Hemenway. Dad hasn't been one to get out and "mosh" with nature, but now that he's retired, and he has a large back yard to work with, he's been researching and planning just how best to interface with it all. I've always enjoyed "working in the yard" for some reason, and the opportunity to share my experiences and discoveries with him is exciting. Kudos to you, Poppy, for being willing to explore new terrain with me.

The book was recommended to me by a Grinnell colleague that I reconnected with last summer. Suzy and I had a wonderful conversation with some other Grinnellians, one of whom was recounting a conversation she had had with Mary Lou, the woman who ended up recommending the book to me. It reminds me-- going back to Grinnell and interacting with all of those wonderful, thoughtful, caring people really, really replenished me. Inspired me anew to have faith in the transformative power of wisdom and education. Even though we weren't able to find the time in those few days of Reunion '07 to "catch up" or fully discuss our common interests, we exchanged contact info and found a way to open the channels of communication. And now I've extended that opening to my Dad, and it's great to know that he's right there engaging in the benefits with me.

Gardening, Landscaping, working outside with the "natural elements"... I'm spiritually inspired by the act of engaging Nature... There just seems to be so much to be learned from observing the "primitive" life-forms that survive in such harsh conditions from day to day. From plants to insects to rodents and birds... the grand interaction of all creatures and organisms is an epic symphony of glorious, inspiring perfection. Whereas we humans struggle with what to do with our waste, there exists no such entity in nature-- detriment is recycled into nutrients for other organisms that convert "unusables" into "usables." There seems to exist a natural balance that the human race is in constant struggle with.

But so is all other life, I guess. Surely it's not easy marching through the environment as an ant, especially when a sudden down pour of rain erupts... However, although there follows some tense moments of frantic activity in dealing with the sudden onslaught of the forces of nature, stability seems to be approached and maintained in a much more efficient way by the "primitive" culture of the ant colony than by the more contentious human element in the throes of the same predicament. So much more drama, disdain, and suffering is calibrated in catastrophe on the human level.

And so, to this point in time, it seems to me that our capacities for judgement and calibration of the daily struggle to make sense of the natural progression of life are challenged at the very least; and to attempt to surmise a preliminary scenario that explains the variegated permutations that would purport to characterize a "meaning of life" or a grand theory of explanation would be not only under-representative and inherently limiting, but insufficient and wrong.

In my humble opinion.

Uh, I dozed off there-- what were we talking about?

Long Overdue

What in the world has been going on that could justify such a lengthy absence from contributing to my blog? Well, truth be told... nothing. There is no sufficient justification for my non-production.

I opted for other projects, I guess. Somewhat, anyway. I mean, yes I am alive and doing things... but my most common chore of late has been avoidance. Lots of video games, naps, watching sporting events or movies... All part of avoiding the work that I supposedly have such passion for...

But enough already of the self critical and self mutilation. Onward!

I had approached this blogging endeavor as a means for regularly developing my "story." My book. My memoir.

But as much as I enjoy the act of writing and recounting events and thoughts in my life, I resist the regular practice. Routine is just so confining, unnatural, bland.

Whatever. Excuses, elaborate or not, they all amass and conspire to allow my procrastination.

Again. ONWARD!

I'm overwhelmed by the project of recounting my experiences in Greece. Where to start? What to include from my background-- the shared background of my college friend and myself; the experimentation and exploration of developing world views and maturations that we shared.

Again. More non-specific superficial speculation that avoids the task at hand. Good gravy, it's such a pervasive habit!!!

To recollect... I can remember considering the trip to Greece as a "once in a lifetime" sort of experience. And now, I only hope that it's true, at least on the subject of manic episodes... But so many things converged at that point in my life that I think my recollection and the diagnosis of what happened is a watered-down, simplified "theory" of the truth.

Going back to a time when I was living in Sacramento with my college roommate, in the early 90's, I can remember a time where I was struggling with my future direction, my focus, and feeling the stress of impending debts that I had no income for. I sunk deeply inside myself, searching for a course of action. I had experienced a similar situation soon after leaving college and relocating to Sacramento with a friend from high school. I was groping around in the dark with my eyes closed, so to speak, trying to find my calling, my passion. I did a lot of writing then; writing for writing's sake. And I started to build some confidence. But the chink in my armor was that I didn't have a steady income.

I had the opportunity to spend some time at a Squaw Valley resort around this time, and did so enthusiastically. Among some of the things we did while there was hiking some of the surrounding nature trails. I can remember going out by myself, retracing some of the hike that we had been guided along earlier, my mind filled with deliberation and quandary about what I was going to do with my life when I returned to "reality," mainly how was I going to find a job to pay my bills. I stopped along one of the trails and found a rock about the size of my fist. I picked it up, without words analyzing my actions or surroundings. There was just a feeling of purpose, of something more profound than the sum of the parts-- my mind, the rock, the trail, nature, life, economic forces, etc. I crouched and placed the stone at the edge of the trail, in a little cranny that seemed to have been waiting for exactly that size rock to be placed there. There were still no words of significance dancing in my mind; only a significant feeling of purpose, of meaning, of righteousness.


It was soon after returning to "reality" that my life changed significantly-- I got a job through a temp agency which led to a permanent position, and I was off and running.

So later, after I had been laid off from the job, my unemployment benefits were running out, and I took a job that I soon realized caused me more distress that I could handle, I got in my truck and drove. I had no destination; I was just searching for direction. I drove for hours, ending up in a remote area east of Yosemite Valley. I pulled over and got out of the truck. The lack of noise was significant. No vehicles on the road, no planes in the air, no distant highway noise or urban landscape machinations.

On the side of the road, there sat a large boulder, roughly the size of a conventional washing machine. It's surface was pocked with divots from years of erosion. I knelt down and picked up a pebble and placed it in one of the small pockets at the top of the boulder, in much the same way I had done on the trail back in Squaw Valley. Again, it was all action and no conscious thought, at least in terms of verbal commands or premeditated and vocalized actions inside my head before acting. The pebble fit nicely into the pocket, and I felt a peaceful justification in having placed it there. I then returned to my truck and drove back home.

Soon after, I would change my life dramatically by moving back to the Bay Area to live with my parents, and found a job with the City of Santa Clara.

So. As you may have already guessed, I had a similar, unrehearsed, and unconscious but significant "ritualistic" occurrence while visiting Greece.

About this I will write more soon.

Fwd:Fwd:fwd....Ad Infinitim: Have You Seen This One?

I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed. What a beauty of a bird feeder it is as I filled it lovingly with seed. Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous flow of free and easily accessible food.
But then the birds started building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to the barbecue.

Then came the poop. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the table...everywhere!

Then some of the birds turned mean. They would dive bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own pocket.

And others birds were boisterous and loud. They sat on the feeder and squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that I fill it when it got low on food.
After a while, I couldn't even sit on my own back porch anymore. So I took down the bird feeder and in three days the birds were gone. I cleaned up their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio.

Soon, the back yard was like it used to be...quiet, serene and no one demanding their rights to a free meal.

Now let's see..... our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care, and free education and allows anyone born here to be an automatic citizen.

Then the illegals came by the tens of thousands.

Suddenly our taxes went up to pay for free services; small apartments are housing 5 families; you have to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor; your child's 2nd grade class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn't speak English.

Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box; I have to "press one" to hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than "Old Glory" are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights and free liberties.

Just my opinion, but maybe it's time for the government to take down the bird feeder. If you agree, pass it on; if not, continue cleaning up the poop!
.....................................................................................

No, I hadn't seen this one. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Those damn illegals. If we could just ship all of them out of OUR country, that WE built, that WE pay for with OUR hard earned money, things would be so much better. I mean, just think-- corporations would suddenly get all warm and fuzzy and be perfectly happy paying fair wages to all their employees, because there wouldn't be any of those stupid, dirty, stinky illegals being all stupid and stinky. Did you know that they eat a lot of BEANS?!!? I mean, can you imagine? Corporations would finally find it "cool" to invest their record profits into all the things that WE want-- Super-Charged Sherman Tanks, complete with DVD players and X-boxes for the kids, armed with "Traffic Buster" missiles and On-Star Tactical Support Equipment (When you absolutely HAVE to get to STARBUCKS for your double-dip-half-caf-non-fat-no-whip-caramel-macchiato... "ON A STICK!" ). Yes-- and they would operate on a mixture of breastmilk and whale semen. I can see it now, can't you? No more standing in line at the grocery store, no more people bagging your groceries, no more cashiers, no more people to stock the shelves at night while us NORMAL HARD WORKING BUT NONETHELESS FAT ASS AMERICANS are sleeping.

Yes, I imagine Native Americans would be good with getting their land back. But I'm guessing they're not holding their breath.

By the way, while we're sharing... As I read through "Exhibit A" (undoubtedly the product of someone's dissertation research) I was reminded of some of the "pretzel logic" I occasionally (but not nearly occasionally enough) have directed at me at work. A few things to share with your intellectual peers-- Niblets of Wisdom, if you will-- on the grand Liberal Socialist Commie Conspiracy Scam that is "Global Climate Change": I'm not sure if my co-worker came up with this himself or if he just happened to be channeling the omnipresent spirit of Sean Hannity at the time (how am I supposed to tell the difference?), but he said, "I think I read somewhere [always cite your source] that you could fit the entire population of the world, shoulder to shoulder, heel to toe, within a space roughly the size of Broward County, FL. [!!!] Have you seen [name omitted to protect the naive, deluded, ignorant, insane, or otherwise misinformed]'s computer desktop, with a satellite map of the world at night? [I must admit, I'm still unclear on exactly when this "night all over the world" occurs. Maybe my ignorance, maybe a composite image, whatever. Maybe it's the de-evolution of Reason, the answer to The Enlightenment-- a return to the Dark Ages, literally. Grain of salt...] Take a look at it-- almost all the lights that show up, signifying population and civilization are bunched together, mostly along the coasts of the populated continents. Most of the land is dark-- no people! So, there's no way that humanity could be causing Global Warming-- there aren't enough of us to make that big of a difference!!"

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have used quotations, because I'm leaning heavily on my recollection of the... um... conversation (?), and I'm forced to paraphrase, and so it should not be judged as a direct quote. I may have utilized vocabulary words at my disposal in the interest of relaying my understanding (as well as my recollection, not to mention my commie-pinko socialist inattention to detail at the time) of what was being said, and so in interest of full disclosure, I cannot verify that some of the words used in this "re-creation" would have been uttered (nay, comprehended) by the individual stating the above, uh... theory. But I have at least made the attempt to facilitate the translation with integrity, representing the unadulterated intent of the argument to the best of my ability. And still, it would seem to me that the gaping chasm traversed by this amazing, acrobatically adept leap of logic is, roughly, big enough to drive a truck through, given that the truck is roughly a size large enough to fit the entire world's population, laying side-by-side doing "snow angels"-- without touching-- AND an Actual Size map that measures the distance between the two polar-worldviews of the individuals involved in the above, um, shall we say, "exchange".

The same individual is distinctly recalled to have said in further justification of his argument, and this time I most assuredly quote: "You know why Greenland is named Greenland? Because it used to be GREEN!" A statement which cannot be debated, I would concur, albeit for assumedly different conclusions than its orator would perhaps purport.

Well. That was fun. Think I'll copy & paste this to my blog and await further instructions from the communist socialist Marxism Mothership.

Until w'e-mail again, ...

Celebrate September 12th

Whereas most Americans recede into a deep, somber remembrance mode at this time of year, I don't.

Not because I don't mourn the tragedy that was visited upon the world, drastically changing the meaning of "9-11" in our lives.

Not because I'm politically antithetical to the current establishment and administration, their policies, their actions, their rhetoric, their combative and destructive elitist morality, among other things.

Not because I don't believe the official story of what occurred on this date, now six years ago. Not because I feel no grief for the victims-- those who lost their lives, gave their lives in service of others, their families, or anyone horrified and haunted by the images that played over and over and over on channel upon channel for hours, days, weeks after it happened. Not because I am skeptical of our leaders' alibis and denials of complicity in missing warning signs, not reacting sufficiently or rapidly or decisively enough, both at the time of the incident, and the ongoing "War On Terror."

No. None of that.

While it may be true that I have opinions and beliefs that run counter to the pervasive, collective mythology that surrounds and reinforces the way most people continue to characterize the events of September 11, 2001, it is not at the root of why I feel a great disconnect from the memorials, the moments of silence, and even the celebrations commemorating heroism and selflessness.

I empathize with the victims, their families, the first-responders-- all those who suffered so greatly on that day, and continue to suffer since. I'm not looking to take anything away from them, or purport that I understand what any one of them has gone through, or continues to go through; Nor do I wish any ill-will or mean any disrespect whatsoever to any human being that was affected, directly or indirectly, by the ghastly, horrific events which unfolded beginning that morning, and continue unfolding and rippling through the collective consciousness to this day.

I'm just being honest. I wasn't really there. Not all the way, anyway. And now, six years later, I'm still trying to put the puzzle back together...

You see, I had experienced my own personal "9-11" of sorts, a little more than a month before "9-11" was a distinct, iconic, gravely descriptive term.

I had gone on vacation, off to Greece with my wife and an old friend and several of his family members and extended family members and friends. And near the end of the adventure, I had my own catastrophic collapse that changed my life. Forever.

Only I experienced the trauma, every aching second, dismally and utterly alone.

There were no images broadcast throughout the world, or even to friends and family, or people in my close vicinity. Yes, others were traumatized, as I was, by what I was going through, not the least of which was my wonderful, steadfastly supportive and loving wife.

But six years... and I still grope for words. I have recollection; I remember emotions, some specific events and some horrific interpretations, hallucinations, and discomfort. I remember wild, dynamic, fantastic images of grandeur; scenarios that my mind played out, and presented to some conscious part of me. I wrestled with random thoughts, madly weaving hyper-psychotic threads into patchwork garments of broken logic. Somehow, I was there (wherever that was), experiencing these things along with my mind, my body, my perceptions... But I was also somewhere else.

All of the tools that I usually had at my disposal to assist me in assessing my well-being, my sense of self-- my very location in the space-time continuum-- were at least malfunctioning, if not completely broken. I lost track of Who I was, Where I was, What I was, What I was doing, What I had done-- all context was suspect. And thus, anything and everything was believable, somehow logical. Anything and everything was possible.

This is the hyper-astounding, thrillingly perilous double-edged sword of an experience, which was later diagnosed (much later, in fact) as a manic episode.

What would follow, after hospitalization, stabilization, medication, and a return to the familiarity of coming home, would be a deep clinical depression, lasting for the better part of two years.

So forgive me if my perspective differs from yours.

What of this "Tripolarity," Anyway?

For those about to rock...

It was a seemingly enough amazing vacation plan. We’d go to Greece for almost two weeks, seeing the country like no regular tourist experiences it. We’d have a native family to guide us, interpret for us, entertain us, and assist us.

It all had come together so dramatically—like a tightly written chapter in a biographer’s masterpiece. I would be ending my tenure in Engineering, one that had become increasingly more and more stressful, for the dream vacation with my wife and a friend I hadn’t seen in many years (as well as many others). And upon returning to the mainland, I’d slide into my imagined idyllic job in the Finance Department.

But just when all seemed set, and paradise found, the unfathomable, unexplainable, unplanned major fork in the road curve ball fly in the ointment outta nowhere kick in the head derailed all storylines, all realistic visions of the future.

Or so I’m told.

Yes, this is my story; but I’m still making sense of it.

If there’s sense to be made.

******************************************

He and I had attended college together; we were "Dormmates" Freshman year, "Floormates" our Sophomore year, "Housemates" our Junior year, and thus, lifetime friends. We shared in the experiences of growing up, being on our own, living and studying and trying to find the ever elusive perfection of love, wherever she was.

We had many shared friends, and even more shared experiences-- Winter break trips to Chicago and Valparasio, grand drinking excursions and loud parties, both hosted and attended. We shared a love like brothers, persisting through disagreements, arguments, and the necessary mistakes which bring great learning.

But by the end of our time in Greece together, I would be left scrambling within my mind, wondering if he was one of my best friends, or the greatest foil I'd ever ran up against.

And by no fault of his. Who knows what reality was. It didn't matter. I was living inside my head. And it didn't make sense to me.

Even though it felt like it did. Fleetingly... it was a fluid lucidity; making sense in the moment. And as time passed, context was forgotten, replaced.

I'm guessing that there was just too much coming in to make sense of. Sensory overload.

So that's what I've been trying to do over the course of the past six years-- organize, rehash, vocalize, chronicle, and analyze my recollection and tell the story that I've lived through.

Get comfortable. This could be a rough ride.

Suddenly Last Summer

We've reached the final day in August. Kids are back in school. Not all, but most. And this is only my second offering for the month of August.

Seems like I've lived 12 hour days, with four day weeks. Where'd August go?

Tonight is the final installation of our Summer Back Yard Movie Festival. At least, the final listed showing from the original schedule. It's Jodie Foster's directorial debut: Little Man Tate. There's been some talk about more shows, depending on weather and interest... so we'll just have to see, eh?

We're in the waning moments of a bit of a heat wave, so the weather should be perfect once the sun goes down for outdoor activities.

Honestly, I've so much material to work with, it's obnoxious... it's just the time that's in short supply. But I'm looking forward to this 3 day weekend, hoping it will accommodate me and my material and allow some quality writing time. Look for LARGE word count.

Honest.

Well, that's the hope.

Pray with me. Or for me. Or toss a coin in a fountain. Whatever-- collectively, we can make this happen.

I shall continue my attempts, creating in the direction of perfection. Hear my pledge.

And hold me accountable.

Hiatus No Mortem

Just a "quickie" to let the throngs know that I am still breathing, and still able to type. Been away on vacation, and still adjusting to the time change... but hope to get back on the writing horse shortly.

Vacation was great and will provide subject matter for new posts. Always good to catch up with "long-lost" family.

Short and sweet. Tonight's feature presentation at the Summer Backyard Movie Festival: Star Wars (A New Hope). Looks to be a good crowd, so I gotta get things set up. Hence the "tersity" of this entry.

But at least I used a term I've never used before. May have even just created it.

It's good to be a Creator.